


been here all along

by kiira



Category: Bring It On (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiira/pseuds/kiira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you were like 98% sure you were the worst sister ever. there had to be some kind of unwritten rule about this in the sibling handbook, something like:</p><p>          1. don’t crush on your sibling’s ex. ever.</p><p>or </p><p>bring it on needs more girls kissing</p>
            </blockquote>





	been here all along

**Author's Note:**

> a rewrite of a piece i did about a year and a half ago! enjoy!

You were like 98% sure you were the  _worst_  sister ever. There had to be some kind of unwritten rule about this in the sibling handbook, something like:

          1. Don’t crush on your sibling’s ex. Ever.

Which would probably be closely followed by:

          2. Don’t watch the way her mouth moves while she’s talking, don’t think   about how it would feel to kiss her, don’t stay up late at night wondering whether she dated him hoping it was you, don’t – 

“...and we’ll finish the routine there. How does that sound?”

You glance up to her eyes quickly, hope Torrance doesn’t notice that you very clearly weren’t maintaining eye contact and nod. She’s smiling slightly, like she’s waiting for you to answer a question, and you realize that yeah – she did ask you a question.

“It sounds … great?” You try, and she rolls her eyes.

“You wanna repeat it back to me if it sounds so great?”

 _Fuck_.

You grab one of her pompoms off the bed and shake them above your head and rattle off a cheer in monotone, before moving into one of the less …. PG routines. You had gotten in trouble for doing it at a game a few weeks ago, and Torrance still refuses to make eye contact with any of the administration.

(She’s not having that problem now).

You’re still in your uniform from practice and the exact wording of the lecture that you got from Principal Bell was that “gyrating in a tight skirt is not appropriate for school sponsored event.”

It is, however, appropriate for Torrance’s bedroom, with Torrance looking at you like she’s about to kiss you, or run away, or possibly break the clipboard she’s holding. Or maybe all three. Or maybe pass out.

She instead grabs her other pompom from her bed and throws it at you and laughs, slightly breathless, slightly nervous.

“Missy Pantone! That was not the routine,” and she grabs your hand and pulls you back down to sit next to her, still laughing and trying to tuck her hair behind her ears while still holding onto your wrist.

She ends up poking herself in the eye with your hand and you raise an eyebrow at her, smirk. She giggles nervously.

“You want me to go over it again, genius?”

“I really think I got it down though,” and you pry her fingers off your wrist (she’s gripping onto you  _hard_ ), and try to continue your cheer routine while slumped against Torrance’s bed. It involved a lot of grinding against absoluting nothing, and Torrance turns bright pink and mutters, “That’s not the routine,” at least six times all while staring at you.

You realize when her finger creep back around your wrist that she’s not going to kiss you, that she’s going to watch you sloppily perform vaguely risqué cheer routines and then fantasize about the way you taste, the way you would move beneath her, that she’s too scared and you’re going to have to be the one to lean over and actually kiss her (which is terrifying and wonderful and exhilarating all at the same time).

So you stop your routine and shrug.

“I guess I thought it was like that,” you whisper and she look slightly put out as you still, and slightly pleased as you twist your thumb around to stroke the underside of her wrist.

“It’s not,” she says, just as quietly, “but I didn’t mind.”

You realize she’s not going to kiss you, not ever, which is why you can’t breathe when she does.

And why you completely forget what the concept of breathing and oxygen ever is or what its relevance to you ever  _was_  when she isn’t shy like you thought she would be, isn’t close mouth chaste but bites your lip, snakes her hand up under your skin-tight uniform and it’s literally everything you’ve wanted.

She pulls away first and it’s her turn to smirk at her and you giggle ( _giggle_ ) nervously (except it’s more like taking a huge gulp of air because you suddenly remember the idea of breathing and how it’s necessary to life).

But then she bites her lip and glances down at her fingers still tight around your wrist and mumbles something like, “I have no idea what I’m doing,” which are slightly foreign words coming from Torrance Shipman’s mouth.

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, “I definitely do,” and Torrance looks faintly shocked for a second before you kiss her again.

And to be honest – screw Cliff’s feelings. There may be some unwritten rule about this in some unwritten sibling handbook, but you’re like 150% sure you couldn’t care less.

After all, she did kiss you first.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me @ bettymcraae.tumblr.com if you want!!!


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